


test of faith

by bloodonthewalls



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Begging, Coming Untouched, Crisis of Faith, M/M, Priest Kink, Religious Conflict, Religious Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 18:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30042759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodonthewalls/pseuds/bloodonthewalls
Summary: will struggles to remain faithful, challenged by the stupid hot demon that keeps messing with him.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

Will Graham has never grappled with his faith as much as he is right now. He's never grappled with faith, period. He's a fucking priest, he can't doubt his faith, he's supposed to be a pillar of Godliness for his congregation. They take care of him, like the sheep herd the shepherd back, and he's supposed to be there for them. He's supposed to put all his trust into God, and in turn his congregation will put all their trust into him.   
But he can't.   
Will is kneeling in his room. He lives with the rest of the clergy, the nuns and friars, and at his small, simple cot, he is resting his elbows. He is trying to pray. Key word being "trying". He's too distracted. 

Will has been cursed with hellish visions for months. At first, they were just inklings- temptation from the Devil, telling him to act cruelly. Those were easy enough to ignore. Eventually, the urges grew into a voice, and the voice grew into a face, and the face into a body.   
The "personification of temptation" as Will referred to him in his head was a man with a husky, thick voice, ash blonde hair neatly combed back, and a broad and sturdy build. Will would get nightmares of him committing evil deeds. He sees him become animalistic. His motions are calculated, Will imagines his heart rate never rises above average. He seems cold. It isn't how he does anything that bothers Will- it's what he does.   
He stabs and tears and cuts. He butchers his fellow man. It isn't rare that Will finds himself suddenly awake, drenched in sweat, tears streaming down his face. That would be normal if it weren't accompanied by a leaking hard-on.   
Being a priest doesn't make masturbating a sin. You just have to abstain from sex and marriage. That doesn't stop Will from feeling like panting and getting dizzy from arousal makes him dirty, especially after the nightmares.   
Will weakly peels his blanket off of his trembling body. He pitches his legs off the side of the bed, wincing as his underwear creates uncomfortable friction. Head in hands, he pictures that awful man again. He's smug now, like a cat satisfied with its kill. "What now, Will?" "Shut up."   
Suddenly Will realizes he spoke aloud.


	2. Chapter 2

Quieter: "Leave me alone."   
The man looks at him knowingly. "You know that I cannot. Look at you."  
"Stop it. You're not real. I just have to-" Will's breath catches in his throat. He whines feebly- he's trying so hard to practice self-control, but fuck, he's so fucking hard, it practically hurts. His vision's voice, so deep it feels like a cat's purr, is not helping. Will pushes the thought out of his mind: now is not the time for a sexual identity crisis.  
The man's mouth gently opens. "You can't just ignore it until it goes away. You will have to deal with it sooner or later."   
Will squeezes his eyes shut. "Not with you watching me. I can't- it doesn't-" A sigh. "I can't."  
"I'm not real, remember?"  
I wish you were. "Right. Fuck."  
Will's head pitches back, his hips are bucking on their own, and he can't take it anymore. A shaky whine escapes him, and he reaches down and massages his erection through his underwear. A sigh of relief.   
Will feels disgusting, he's humping his own hand like a dog, like a teenager, but it feels so good, like finally scratching a bug bite on his back, he can't stop. His other hand presses down on his mouth, he's breathing hard, his eyes lock onto the cross on his wall, and he screws them shut in response. God is not with me now.   
"Feeling better, Will?" Shame surges through his body. Will sits up. "Why are you still here?"   
"I never left."   
Will blinks in confusion- is he seeing things? He snatches his glasses off of the bedside table. He was right. The man is sitting on the spare chair across Will's small room. He's faint, but he's there, his pointed tail curling around a chair leg, his wings tucked behind his body.   
"Stop looking at me." Will evades eye contact.   
"I'm not allowed to admire my work?"  
He pauses, still panting. "What?"  
"This is my doing. I made you like this."  
A surge of pleasure shoots through Will's body. He gasps and writhes, forcing his own hands behind his back to avoid touching himself. The man grins.   
"That too?" Will manages.   
"All of it. You allowed me to take up space in your mind. You did not pray me away. Thusly."   
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."   
"Astute."  
"Shut the fuck up."  
"If you wish, I can reverse it. But I do not think you want that."  
Will glares at him. He says no words. This is an agreement. "What's your name?" His voice trembles.   
"Hannibal."  
"Great." Rhymes with cannibal. Definitely not a red flag.   
"Now is not the time for theorizing about me, Will. Now is the time for testing your strength. Do you trust your God?"


	3. Chapter 3

Will's starting to shake now, a low shiver that escalates to trembling. With no hesitation: "Yes. Fully. With everything I have." The words are catching themselves in his throat, he's breathing too hard and it feels too good, but his hands remain behind his back.  
Hannibal's face sours. "Pathetic."  
Will glares at him. He definitely feels pathetic. He's not using his hands, not even moving his hips, he's focusing on controlling himself. But his focus is slipping, the nothing feels so good, he's becoming absorbed in the feeling.  
Hannibal seems almost angry. "You blindly trust every word in that book. You trust that he is listening to your prayers. You said it yourself: God is not with you now."  
Will is writhing on his cot, every word out of Hannibal's mouth seems to heighten the desperation, and it feels so good but he's aching, it hurts now, he wants to touch himself so badly, he wants Hannibal to touch him. The minute the thought enters his mind, he's gasping loudly, and his control slips again. Will bucks his hips into the air, rutting against nothing. The breath catches in his throat and he's beginning to moan, a breathy, gentle, ragged sound, but he doesn't care if anyone hears him anymore. It's too good.  
"Look at you. This is what sin feels like. It's not worth it, is it? It could never be. Your human minds are wired to chase this feeling. You are not above it. Give in."  
Hannibal's words are worming their way into Will's skull, he feels like he's going to turn inside out, his self control is running out. "No, nonono, this isn't ... I'm not ..." His words dissolve into panting, his body flinching from the need, it's consuming him.  
"It is. You are a sinner. Face yourself."  
"I'm forgiven. He forgave us. I'm not a sinner. You did this to me."  
"Fool. You delude yourself. Have you forgotten that the Devil is on God's side? This is a test of faith." Hannibal's words are measured and clipped, his speech tacit.  
Hannibal's right. He shouldn't be, but he is. Will screws his eyes shut, his body full of bliss and screaming for more, sweat drenching his shirt, and frantically begins to pray.  
"Holy Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women-" Hannibal sneers. He says nothing, a cold silence, watching his work.  
Will's voice is giving out, he's so fucking close he feels like he could come untouched, but he continues to pray, the words fading and shaking from the force his hips exert with each pathetic, searching rut. "...Hail Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death."  
Without missing a beat: "Touch yourself, Will."  
Suddenly aware of how painful his arms are pinned behind his back by his own weight, Will cries out, his eyes fly open, gripping onto the sheet beneath him. "No. No. I won't."  
"Why are you still holding on?" Hannibal rises, standing over Will now. Will turns his head to avoid looking him in the eye. "You have already sinned. You have already become perverted. Look at yourself. You are not above it."  
Will's whimpers fill the silence that follows. "I can't. No. I-" He trails off. Hannibal leans in close, and if he were real, Will would be able to feel his warm breath on his clammy skin. "Would you rather I touch you?"


	4. Chapter 4

Will opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out but his frantic breathing and the occasional choked whine. He's looking Hannibal in the eye now, a direct stare. The thought of Hannibal touching him is too much. 

"I could make you feel such pleasure that your mind would not be able to take it. I could break you." Will can feel the sound of Hannibal's voice gathering in his body, low in his stomach, a disgusting tingle that makes him shudder. His hands search for reassurance, anything to grab onto, but his arms feel weak, he's growing dizzy, and his hips flinch uncontrollably. 

"Please, Hannibal." Barely a whisper. He can't tell if he's begging to cum, to be touched, or to be spared. He doesn't care at this point. It's all too much. 

Hannibal allows a grin. "You are a beautifully weak man." Will is too desperate to respond, instead allowing his pleading, direct gaze to speak for him. Hannibal's hand slowly reaches across Will's body, making contact with his exposed ribs. 

A shock ripples through his body, choked whines forcing their way out of him, his hands grabbing at Hannibal's wrist. He might actually finish now, right when he's been touched, right when Hannibal started helping him, it's not fucking fair.

"Nonono- Hannibal- fuck, it's so-" he can't finish his sentence. Hannibal presses his thumb between ribs, sending an electric jolt through Will's body, making him cover his mouth with one hand, the other frantically clawing at Hannibal's arm. He's about to finish now, he's going to give in, he can feel it, and Hannibal knows it. A gasp, and then his body releases. Finally. There's nothing in his mind now, it's empty, it feels so good to just let go, allow himself to be at Hannibal's mercy. He doesn't care about anything else.


End file.
